


Knitwits

by islandkate



Category: The Mortal Instruments (Movies), Young Hercules
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 00:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate/pseuds/islandkate
Summary: How do you bring an Ancient Greek hero and a modern werewolf together?  Knitting, of course!For the Winter FRE 2018 Prompt 143. “Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”





	Knitwits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lakritzwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/gifts), [Chelidona](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Chelidona).



 

 

Iolaus bent his head so close to his stitches, trying desperately to not to drop another one, that he failed to see a strand of his own long curly blond locks becoming increasingly woven into the project.

Luke noticed and tried to hide a smirk. He wondered how long it would take his younger companion to realize it. Somewhere between staring at the eyes squinted in concentration, the tongue sticking out, and the hint of perfect ass peeking from the the old cut-off jeans, that smirk blossomed into a full blown smile that lit up his face like the sun. No one could have ignored it.

“What?” Iolaus started, yanking his head up. The motion jerked the knitting from his hands. He sat there surprised and bewildered by his empty hands, half a dishcloth hanging from his hair, looking completely innocent and lost. Just like the night Jace and Clary had accidentally transported him. Luke was the only one who knew enough Ancient Greek to communicate with Iolaus at all.

*

After a while, Luke was able to explain what happened. Iolaus stopped trying to fight and escape. Then he stopped talking and eating. Somehow, knitting became the way back. Luke just sat in the room quietly, needles clacking, ostensibly focused on the project in his hands. He came every night. Sat for hours. Never asked the blond to do or say anything. Sometimes told stories while he worked. He always left food and water.

After three or four days, he noticed the cheese was gone from the plate. Feta. The needles continued clacking. The next day, the cheese and the olives had disappeared. More importantly, two blue eyes had begun following his progress from behind a curtain of dirty hair.

The following day, a wooden tub appeared, full of warm, sweet scented water, before Luke arrived. Blue eyes followed the progress of the knitting from behind a curtain of beautiful golden curls after that.

Eventually, the food disappeared regularly. Iolaus began to look less like he expected death would come for him any moment. The summer had faded into fall and a chill was in the air the night. Luke finished the sweater he had been so diligently creating. The blond was by now sitting in a chair next to the couch watching his every move.

Luke offered the finished piece to him, “For you. To keep warm.” Iolaus flinched back in the chair. So Luke left the sweater next to the empty dinner plate and wished the young man good night.

It was two weeks before Luke was able to return. Iolaus, despite the careful ministrations of other order members had begun to backslide. When Luke came, injured and bandaged, Iolaus was huddled in a corner of the couch, wearing the sweater and a pair of soft pants.

Once the needles began their soothing symphony, the blond cautiously crept across the couch and touched a wound on Luke’s forearm, “You fight? You win?” Iolaus’ grasp of English was improving.

Over the course of time, Luke told him the whole story of his part in the fight for the mortal cup and that he was healing well. All the while, another sweater began to appear from the clacking needles.

*

By the time the second sweater finished, Iolaus was sitting beside him diligently trying to produce a simple dishcloth. Luke wanted nothing more than to yank the mess from his hair, grab the firm bottom peeking out of those shorts and kiss until neither of them could remember anything else.

‘Shit,’ he thought, ‘Time for Iolaus to get out and meet other people before I ruin everything.’

But the knitting ritual remained. Every week they got together at Luke’s apartment above his shop and Luke knitted while Iolaus struggled, dropped stitches, and cursed in both English and Greek. He eventually finished the dishcloth which he promptly presented to Luke.

One Wednesday, as Luke was preparing to close the shop a bit early to make dinner before knitting club, Iolaus called, “Hey the building where I work is burning. Can we maybe meet tomorrow? I think I will get home a bit later than usual.”

Luke almost shifted. “Stay put. I’m coming to get you.” He hung up the phone while Iolaus was still sputtering a response. He was furious that it was still daytime and he had to drive. Twenty blocks in traffic was far too long. He imagined the worst as he sat at red lights in his old beat-up truck. At night he could have shifted and run it in minutes. By the time he got to the factory where Iolaus made replica movie weapons, he had worked himself into quite a panic.

What if Iolaus was hurt badly? He never told him how he felt! Shit. He never really admitted to himself before now how he felt. He couldn’t force himself on the man. Who was he to take advantage of him?

He parked the truck half on the curb in his hurry to get to Iolaus. Werewolf sense of smell guided him to the blond sitting on a stoop, head down, completely soaked, wrapped in an EMS blanket, and streaked with soot. He wanted to mark him right there in front of everyone. Instead, he fell to his knees and pulled his friend into the tightest hug he could.

“Your boy is a hero,” came a voice behind him. A policeman with name badge “Porter” told him about Iolaus going back inside to rescue coworkers.

The exhausted man slumped in his arms just smiled up at him. Luke shivered. He might have died. A hand slipped from under the blanket and caressed his cheek.

“I’m okay,” Iolaus said, “Paramedics have already cleared me.”

Then the most amazing thing in Luke’s entire life happened. The blond raised up and kissed him. He didn’t even think. Just kissed him back, then swept him up into his arms and told Sgt. Porter he was taking him home.

The brunet policeman smiled and tipped his hat.

*

Time passed. But now they knitted together on the couch in Luke’s apartment whenever they wanted to, because it was their apartment now. Iolaus actually became fairly proficient and began to design a new, secret, pattern. He only worked on it during the full moon while he sat outside Luke’s saferoom.

On the fifth anniversary of the day Iolaus arrived, they planned a special dinner. Luke closed the shop a little early because the smell of Iolaus’ cooking had him starving. He snuck quietly up the stairs, only to stop, transfixed in the doorway of the kitchen.

Iolaus had his long golden locks bunned out of his face with a knitting needle holding most of the curls in place. A few danced free in the late afternoon sun. The gleam of the sun made the whole man look like an ancient golden statue, clad only in a tiny yellow knit thong that left very little to the imagination and offered ample view of that most perfect of butts.

His personal greek god turned around, startled. Then he audaciously smirked at the greedy need obvious on his lover’s face. He put down his spoon and strutted about the kitchen, twisting and turning. Modeling the tiny garment he had designed and created all on his own, so very proud of his accomplishment.

Luke was frozen. He did not know if he wanted to strangle Iolaus or kiss him breathless. Kissing won out. Quickly followed by throwing the protesting blond over his shoulder enroute to the bedroom while he yanked at the tiny bit of yarn that defied him like a chastity belt.

Iolaus kicked and screamed, “It took me forever to make all those tiny stitches! Don’t you dare tear it! Just untie the sides!” Hands flailed trying to undo a couple of simple bow knots. The thong flew across the room to adorn a lampshade while kissing him breathless progressed to fucking him senseless.

Later, another thong was ripped from him with Luke’s teeth on their wedding night.

 

 


End file.
